


Alive, alive, alive.

by Practicefortheheart



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Fluff, M/M, POV First Person, POV John Watson, Sleeping Sherlock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-28
Updated: 2015-10-28
Packaged: 2018-04-28 15:11:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 288
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5095277
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Practicefortheheart/pseuds/Practicefortheheart
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Short little fluffy drabble <3</p>
            </blockquote>





	Alive, alive, alive.

**Author's Note:**

  * For [loveanddeathandartandtaxes](https://archiveofourown.org/users/loveanddeathandartandtaxes/gifts).



My fingers brush the skin of his neck, starting at the base of his skull where the inky curls wrap around my fingers just so. I follow the path of his spine, counting vertebrae as I go, enjoying this quiet moment. He is soft in sleep, a rare thing. Precious.

I feel his lungs, pressing his back into my hand with each deep breath.

Alive, alive, alive. 

The silvery scars crossing the pale skin are strangely beautiful in the moonlight. I trace one with the tip of my tongue, as if to erase the memory of pain lodged within.

He might wake up now, but I can’t stop myself.

His breath hitches, stops, rushes out of his lungs. I keep myself still.

He sleeps on, unaware of my lips pressing into his spine, between his shoulder blades. I rub my nose in the soft tissue there, smelling him, warm and spicy and a little sweet. I fill my lungs with him, my head, my heart. My life.

I sit back, careful not to disturb him now. His dark hair is a smudge of charcoal against the white pillow, his torso light and slender, he is dreamlike.

My hands are still on his skin, as if I need touch to prove this is real. Sherlock is here, alive, warm, soft. Sherlock is here, in my bed, is mine to touch and stroke and kiss.

I move my fingers again, let them follow the sharp ridge of his scapulae, press my thumbs lightly into his skin. I want to feel bones and muscles and heartbeat. I want to bury myself in his body.

His breathing is steady, his heartbeat strong.

Alive. Alive. Alive.

He breathes for the both of us.


End file.
